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Although many things had always been unclear in Charlie's life, he has the wherewithal to know when something is shiningly obvious. And it was more than obvious that Charlie was no longer on the ship. The waves caressing him and the hard rocky surface upon which he lay were pretty obvious signs. He was lying on some crag. In the middle of the ocean. No sign or sound of the HMS Haverford whatsoever.
For a while he contemplates righting himself, checking he still has two functioning legs - possibly they're just numb from the water, otherwise the obvious will be quite dire indeed - and establishing his whereabouts. For all he has seen or sensed since he came-to on this precipice, he could in fact be on some north Caribbean beach, not so far from a naval outpost.
However, rather than attempting to ascertain his whereabouts, he spends even longer contemplating the exceptional beauty in the colour of the sky above him, the magic of the water being, in fact, somewhat warm, as is found in these parts, and the stunning relief of the lack of anything. No orders, no officers, no sisters, no suspect glances.
He's always had a maudlin streak, but part of him thinks, well, if this is it... He might just let the blue sky pull him away from the earth. It looks so wonderfully deep and blue.
As the first son, and alas, only son, of the Gardner brood, most people expected a differentexpected different path for him. Some might even venture to say that he had abandoned his familial duties, seeing his sisters through their seasons etc. but his father was thankfully alive and very well, and the navy, a blissful escape from said 'duties'.
The decks of navy vessels were awash with second sons, looking for some ‘life purpose’ to live up to their older brothers' birthright.
Charlie had no such reason nor aspiration in his commission. His heart had chosen years ago that which was not acceptable among polite society and in his haste to avoid doomed loveless marriage, he had picked instead the ocean.
Here was the adventure he had sought. He had better sharpen up or let the escapade cost him dearly.
Ten minutes later, he is standing, has surveyed the surrounding rockiness, established that he has both his legs and his coat, and is, in fact, stranded on a small rocky atoll with a smattering of Caribbean fauna. There is perhaps a larger island on the horizon - last he recalls the HMS Haverford, on which he was posted when it left Dover twelve months ago, was somewhere between Bermuda and Antigua.
Another dot moves on the horizon, though unclear from this distance, he thinks... Yes, it is... A ship. He holds up a finger, measuring scale. Then sits down to wait.
He has no reasoning on how long he has not been on his ship. The storm weather that overtook the vessel must have thrown him overboard and in that sense he supposes that he must thank God that he's still alive.
He holds up his finger once again. The ship on the horizon is closer and looks to be heading in the area of the atoll. Sensing the rarity of a possible opportunity for rescue, he sets about finding a large leaf or perhaps a fern to wave about.
---
It was thus that Charlie found himself hauled onto the deck of the Ambition, feeling more self-conscious than he ever has of his naval garments and his affected Oxfordshire accent. For all the stories he had read, whispers he had heard told, Charlie was for the first time in his life standing on the deck of a pirate ship. It was a large vessel, and the crew peering at him from across the deck and quarterdeck didn’t seem nearly large enough for a ship this size. The navy ships he was used to were much more populated, you could hardly ever get a moment alone. More noticeably, this crew included a diverse range of people, not just men and not just Europeans either. They also didn’t look quite as menacing as he might have expected from a pirate ship with three skulls on its flag.
The crew parted for a striking dark-skinned man wearing a tricorne, and a faded brown leather coat over a maroon shirt. He wore a gold chain around his neck and a golden cross hung from one earlobe. Charlie noted the sword at the man’s belt, though none of the other crew members seemed to be carrying one. This must be the captain.
Captain Babineaux wasn’t inclined to pick up strays. Especially those in disheveled naval uniforms - getting mixed up in navy business by harbouring deserters was not in his best interests. Unfortunately, he had a soft spot for his first mate, and Riley couldn't sail past a deserted island without making sure they picked up any castaways. Fuck. He supposed that makes sense for someone who's family perished in a wreck, making her a kind of castaway herself.
This particular castaway had the appearance Zay could begrudgingly describe as pathetically handsome. What to do with a pathetically handsome naval castaway?
"Take him to the black box. I'll question him once we've passed three knots."
Dave and Yogi pulled Charlie towards the lower decks while the rest of the Ambition crew set the sails.
---
It's painfully obvious (the pain part being mostly due to the rope knotting his wrists together) that Charlie is in a spot of trouble. Whether this is worse, or better, than being stranded on a rocky islet is a bit beyond him at this point, especially as he realises he hasn't had any food or water in quite some time - possibly days - and he's really starting to feel it in the lightness of his head.
The captain prowls into the lower hold where Charlie has been sequestered, and perhaps it's only trepidation but the sight of his lithe form, unusual clothes and dark lively eyes makes Charlie's heart race.
---
A captain had once remarked to his officers, Charlie a fresh officer amongst them, as he compared the seas to the fairer sex.
"The ocean's temper is unpredictable, she'll turn angry and unforgiving and then pull you into sunshine like you've never seen. She can be sweeter and more fruitful than you expected and at the same time she'll make you work for it, she'll happily see a fool washed to her depths."
Charlie wasn't sure if the metaphor worked, poetically, but his youth among four sisters, and his mother for that matter, had taught him something of a woman's temper.
---
"So!" The captain emerged out of the shadows of the hull, startling Charlie to somewhere near alert. "A naval officer on my ship." He emphasised each word with an underlying sass that Charlie had never heard any person use in his life. It was... Intriguing.
Charlie tried to make eye contact with the pirate, although he was now struggling to focus his vision at all, and in the low light of the hold, it was near impossible.
"Please... Sir-" Charlie's attempt at politeness was quickly interrupted with a shout of electric laughter.
"Sir!? My, my, it seems we're in need of some fine and proper introductions! You can address me as Captain Babineaux or Captain. And. What is your name?"
On a slippery slope to delirious, Charlie let out his own sliver of laughter at the thought of meeting Captain Babineaux in such a formal introduction - as if they're in some gentleman's club or London ballroom.
"Hm.. aha.. Lieutenant Charles Gardner, nice to..." Unable to finish the platitude, Charlie changed tack, his most pressing concern that of his thirst. "Could I trouble you for something to drink, Captain? Please?"
What was this stupidly pretty and overly polite navy lieutenant doing in his hold? Zay Babineaux had never once spoken to a navy man with any kind of manners nor had he received any in return. This perverse turn of events was... Intriguing. There was nothing at all threatening about the navy man. Zay found himself handing the man his flask and watching him gulp down water. If he also noticed his fine neck, the arch of his throat and hollow at his collarbone where his shirt pulled open, well, it was Zay's ship and that was quite fairly his business.
As Charlie gulps down the water, he tries to think through his options here. Speak plainly and the pirate captain may decide to throw him over. On the other hand he may be more benevolent than he seems and aid Charlie's route back to his posting. If Charlie lies, the outcomes are even less coherent, and not to mention he's a terrible liar. Truth it shall be. He takes one more gulp and hands the flask back, locking eyes with the captain.
"Uh.. thank you for the water. My name is Lieutenant Charles Gardner," - already said that, good God - "I am an officer of His Majesty's Navy and I was lost to my ship a day or so ago. I must request your aid in reuniting with my ship, which was headed to the port at Antigua." Charlie lets out a breath. He spoke very quickly, as if trying to conserve oxygen, and he hoped it didn't sound like nerves over constructing lies to the captain.
The captain observes Charlie for a minute more. The silence of potential ill fates that may be about to befall him, should Captain Babineaux be less kind than he seems, is uncomfortable, but the gaze is not. In fact Charlie is almost on the tip of forgetting the potential ill fates when the captain finally speaks.
"We will take you to Codrington on Barbuda and you can easily find transport to Antigua from there. I have no wish to be caught up in the convoluted business of the military and that’s as close as I will get." The captain turns to make his way back up to the deck, pausing to make one last stipulation. "You’ll work as one of the crew until we make landfall. Understand?"
"Yes, understood. I- thank you, Captain." Charlie relaxed for a second as he was left alone in the murky hold again. Then he realised he was still restrained in a murky hold. He was just taking a breath to call out when the two men who pulled him down here when he came aboard descended from the upper decks.
"Alright mate?" The taller one greeted him and began to untie his wrists.
"Time for food, I reckon!" The other man added; his accent was unknown to Charlie and somewhat difficult to understand in its unfamiliarity. But there was no malice in the nature of either man and Charlie felt that he may have in fact been picked up by the most uncommonly friendly pirates on all the seas.
"Thank you, I'm very hungry actually." Charlie tried to smile as he stood, but the lightness of his head meant that standing took rather a lot of strength and thus he feared his smile became somewhat of a grimace. "I'm Charlie," he continued, following the men to the ladder.
"I'm Yogi, that's Davey - after you, mate." Yogi gestured Charlie up the ladder.
---
The rest of the evening has Charlie extremely wary. He's on a pirate ship, and however nice they may seem, giving him water and food, they're still pirates and he knows that they are antithetically placed in regard to seafaring and morals. They must be.
The first mate catches Charlie after the eating and cleaning has ceased for the day and crew start disappearing off into the rabbit warren of the ship. Charlie was about to start an investigation of the comfiest pile of sacks or ropes to potentially lie on for the night when she grabs his arm. He's instantly on alert, maybe the jig is up and this is where they have him walk the plank but then-
"How are you feeling?" The first mate asks in a genuinely kind voice. "I'm Riley, by the way, I don't think anyone really gave any introductions."
Charlie exhales a nervous laugh - another perplexing and unpredictable pirate interaction, he has no clue what to make of it. "Yes. Yes, thank you, I'm okay. And I'm Charlie. Charles. Well, Charlie, yes." He babbled, deciding there's no real sense in all the overly proper formalities he's used to operating under in drawing rooms and sailors quarters.
"Ah, Charlie. Are you sure you had enough to eat? I think you may have been on that atoll longer than you realised." She smiled, and he felt truly at ease for the first time on the ship. "I was shipwrecked myself, you know." She has a British accent, although Charlie can’t put a finger on what region. Her shipwreck must have been a fair while ago.
"I had plenty, thank you it was actually better than the navy mess I'm used to." He hesitates for half a second, then decides to add "I’m sorry to hear you have been castaway. And lost to your family. My condolences, that must have been an ordeal."
Riley blinks, he seems to surprise the pirates as much as they do him. "Thank you. That's very kind. In truth, my blood family was not half as warm and supportive as the crew are, and I, well, I feel that my life is enriched now. Maybe that will sound callous to you. I wouldn't wish a shipwrecking upon anyone. Just... Life often takes you to where you need to be, don't you agree?" Her gaze flicked quickly over his shoulder and he turned to see the large, blond man who had cooked the food quietly waiting for her.
Charlie turned back to her, "Perhaps it does." He moved to let her pass and as she went she pointed to a subtly placed door in the ship's wall. "This spot will have to do for your bunk tonight, we don't have spares at the moment but I can see about rearranging things tomorrow. It's enough space though and not uncomfortable. Lucas slept in there at first, didn't you?" Riley directs her question to her waiting suitor, who must be Lucas, and he nods.
"Could be much worse." Lucas adds grimly.
Charlie assumed he'd know that from experience based on the tone and expression, and nods in return. "Okay, thank you both. Um, good night."
He climbs into the cupboard-like bunk and pulls the door too. Luckily he'd never been claustrophobic.
---
The next three days were enlightening. The crew of the Ambition were light-hearted and friendly, though not without a sprinkling of intriguing personalities. Lucas seemed to be the quietest of the bunch, though Charlie wasn't ignorant enough to mistake introversion for ill humour. He saw how the large man's actions accounted for the congeniality that was lacking in his speech.
Riley was more than helpful in giving Charlie tasks - help Isa with the sails, scrub the decks with Dave and Jeff, mend the fishing nets with Jade, man the wheel with Yindra. When Riley realised Charlie had a proclivity for navigation, she directed him to Captain Babineaux in the captain's quarters.
"You can help us update our maps at the very least, Charlie. Zay will be interested to hear about your stops in the colonies too."
He approached the cabin with a certain reluctance. The captain hadn't spoken to Charlie since the interrogation in the hold but every so often they had caught eyes across the deck or during dinner. The captain ate amongst his crew most of the time from what Charlie had seen and he took from that that Zay Babineaux was a good sort of person. Someone better than plenty of the folk that Charlie had come across, most of whom wouldn't hesitate to assert any modicum of status or hierarchy that they could over others.
Charlie knocked lightly on the main cabin's door, and, hearing a murmured confirmation, entered. The captain was standing at a table covered in papers in the centre of the room, comparing two or three maps, a book and some kind of compass.
The quarters were a touch more well kept than the rest of the ship but modestly so, with simple, well-made curtains partly covering a neatly made bed and simple carvings in the walls and ceiling. A large tapestry was the sole decorative addition across the starboard wall. It displayed some kind of mythic scene.
Captain Babineaux caught him staring at the tapestry, and pointed from where he stood. "Take a look if you like, Charlie. It's Pyramus and Thisbe from Ovid's M-"
"Metamorphoses. I know it. I didn't realise you- that is to say, I didn't know-" Charlie fumbled his words, trying not to sound presumptuous or insult the captain. Zay simply smirked.
"You didn't think that a pirate would hold such refined interests. I understand. No, really," he said, off Charlie's half pained, half apologetic expression. "You may have sensed we're not the most typical pirate vessel, Charlie, though I don't wish to speak ill of my colleagues across the Caribbean," he chuckled and trailed off, "Well, perhaps you can help me and then I can tell you some more about what we do?"
The pair of them worked through each map and two scrolls filled with lists of ports at several colonies, updating the details of where different outposts are fortified or abandoned, what goods were readily available and which routes were currently in use by the navy. Captain Babineaux - Zay, he tells Charlie to call him Zay - notes many of Charlie’s insights about each of the ports into a journal.
“You’ve been very helpful. I’m grateful.” Zay sits back in his chair, his demeanor open and genuine. “What can I tell you in return?”
Charlie glanced between the tapestry and the captain, mentally adding things together as he took in the papers on the desk. He moved closer, taking in ship plans, maps of North America, the Caribbean and Atlantic Islands. He could tell that they were tracking mercantile ships and had heard the crew discussing some type of rescue. That, plus the unnecessarily large size of the ship for such a minimal crew, gave Charlie some ideas.
“You… rescue enslaved people?” Charlie looked up, into the waiting eyes of the captain. Zay nods.
“We do our best to save as many as we can. The slave ships take unconventional routes and are difficult to stop without casualties. If we can transport them to free towns at least they have a better chance of remaining free.”
Zay’s voice became more guarded as he explained how they undertook each rescue and what they had learned about the interrupting the trade, including some success attacking empty ships as they headed eastward, before they could return with more enslaved people. The man clearly felt deeply about the missions both successful and unsuccessful.
Charlie was in silent awe. This was dangerous but worthy work. And he was trusting him, practically a stranger, with the knowledge. He leaned forward, scanning the lists and maps once more.
“Why are you telling me this? Aren’t you worried I could reveal your work to the authorities?”
“I’m hoping that you are the good man that you seem to be. I’m trusting you not to reveal my secrets.”
Charlie nodded slowly, looking down at where their hands both rested on the pages of the book at the corner of the desk, close.
"We're only two days from Barbuda." Zay murmured, breaking the moment. Charlie pushes down the whisper of despair that tries to bubble up at the thought of Barbuda. But he knows that a feeling can only be ignored for so long. He knows that as sure as he knows the length and breadth of the Atlantic Ocean.
It seems like he's not so good at pretending anymore either. Zay catches the warring emotions behind Charlie's lack of response, with the officer no longer offering the polite deferential response he would have given a few days ago.
"You know," Zay hesitates one more breath. If he's wrong, his pride will kill him over any strongly and wrongly made assumptions. "The crew of my ship come from all walks of life. Jade was arrested for stealing, Riley was a stranded noblewoman, Isa and Dylan were cast out for their refusals to conform with society. If..." A breath, " if you sought some different life, something less... polished but more true. There's a place for you here with me. With us."
Charlie feels as though there's maybe suddenly less oxygen in the room than before. He looks up from where he was smoothing the corner of the parched and crumpled map, seeing earnestness on Zay's face that made his heart catch in his chest. Even without a second thought, he wanted it, this adventure, this crew, this connection.
"Captain.... Zay. I- this week has been an awakening for me. The crew, the family that you all have here and the work that you do, I would be more than lucky to be here with you..." He broke off, hating his next words before he even said them.
"It's impossible for me. If I desert the navy, I'm a fugitive, I'm as good as dead. I could never return to my family." All the most practical and logical and unequivocally unfair things about life and duty came spilling out and he didn't believe in it and Zay didn't believe in it but Charlie said them all. "Excuse me." Barely disguising the panic in his voice, he left the captain's quarters.
Zay sat back in his chair. He hadn't imagined any of this, hadn't expected it either. In that sense, he had absolutely no idea what to do with any of it. Moving back to his maps, he resolved to speak to Riley about it. Charlie had made it clear that he would be off this ship in less than two days, so the real question was how to move forward from this chapter.
---
It’s obvious that Charlie can’t avoid the crew or Captain but he does his best to stay out of the way over the next day. It’s painful to him how easily he fits in and gets along with them all. It’s dangerous to want it.
The Ambition is half a day from Barbuda when Captain Babineaux calls for them to drop anchor. The sun was setting after dinner when Riley called for a crew member named Nigel to play some music. At the behest of the rest of the crew, Nigel pulled out a weathered looking fiddle and began to play.
As the music picked up and the crew began dancing all across the deck, Charlie found himself staring in one direction. Zay caught his eyes and the glint that sparked in his irises was like fire.
Unable to convince Lucas to even sway with her, Riley pulled Zay over to dance among the crew. It was a half-formed quadrille dance, everyone in pairs and looping around each other, laughing and spinning whenever anyone missed their place or paired in the wrong order. A far sight from Charlie’s youth in his mother’s drawing room, running the steps until he and his sisters could complete a dance without fault. Jade beckoned him towards the centre, starting a new line and he shook off the malaise he had been sheltering behind. Let him have this one last night.
After partnering Dylan, who could barely maintain the steps for laughing, and Riley, who had squeezed his hands affectionately, Charlie pressed his hands against Zay’s hands for the next round. The spark in Zay’s eyes as they met with Charlie’s was stronger than before and he took off into the circle, tugging Charlie along. Charlie had always been decently good at dancing, but Zay had confidence that he’d never possessed. Breathless at this point, they spun across the deck, hands pressed together. Charlie could live in this moment forever.
Charlie lay in his bunk later on, thinking through his fate tomorrow. He would attempt to find the Haverford and regain his position. If the timing was as he thought, the naval vessel would be posted at Antigua by now. He may need to prove that he had not intentionally abandoned his post, but there was really no way to show what had happened. He would never betray the Ambition or Zay by discussing his time on this ship. He silently cursed his goodness, his stupid compulsion to duty, wishing he could abandon his commission the way he had run from his duty to his family back in Oxfordshire. If he had some way out… but his commission was lined up for years yet and the only other honourable exit would be death in service. Resigned, Charlie squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to try to get some rest.
---
The ship set off again at the day’s light and was in sight of Barbuda at high noon. Too soon. Riley and Jade both hugged him farewell, and many of the crew shook his hand. He, Dave and Yogi would be going ashore in a small boat, so that Dave and Yogi could pick up supplies at the port.
At the dock, Charlie said goodbye to Dave and Yogi and headed toward the office of the port to find some transport to Antigua. His heart had never felt so heavy in his life.
From a distance, Charlie catches sight of two officers in navy blue coats. His coat is stowed in the sack Jade sewed for him into a bag to carry the few items he possesses. Planning to identify himself to the officers, he opens his bag as he draws around the corner of the office building. He can hear them now, conversing about a loss in the fleet. His ears prick up at a familiar name.
"...Haverford...yes and they were all lost unfortunately..."
Charlie presses himself back around the corner before they catch sight of him, listening carefully. The officers continue discussing the shipwreck.
"We had some good soldiers on that vessel. Captain Brandon.., Lieutenant Gardner, Lieutenant Scott... Not to mention, we needed the reinforcements for the western routes."
Charlie blinks, processing. He needs to go, now, before he's seen. He can go. He's dead? Officially he's dead. Drowned. This means, this means-
He sets off back to the dock where he left the Ambition, the other side of the port, at one point pausing to throw his naval coat in a barrel. No need for that anymore. Sprinting now, lungs aching for lack of oxygen, faster than he ever has. There's a boat still loading up at the dock. Ambition is still anchored in the bay.
Zay rubs a hand over his eyes. This whole saga should not have affected him so deeply. This isn't how he operates. Just. God, how he wished he didn't watch Charlie walk away.
A knock at the door pulls him from the malaise. It'll be Riley, telling him they're all loaded up and ready to set off. "Come in."
But his eyes travel up from the floor and catch those ugly navy issue boots, the creamy britches, the fine boned hands and his chest rapidly rising and falling under the disheveled white shirt. No jacket.
"It seems that the Haverford perished at sea." Charlie says breathlessly. Zay searching his face, what is this? "All the crew perished with it." Charlie locks eyes with Zay. Zay stands, nodding, a smile breaking out on his face.
"Have you got room on board for a wayward soldier's ghost?"
There's a charged moment of understanding between the two men. A second of reprieve from hidden truths and a gasp of air above the surface of loneliness that used to hit Charlie in irregular waves. The last thing either of them had expected from this chapter was for it to become a prologue.